


a kiss or a gunfight

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Arguing, First Kiss, M/M, i have no idea how to tag this, sort of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There's a fine line between loving someone and being in love with them, and Pete is wrapping it tight around his own throat. Or, Patrick gets sick of the stage gay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was intended to be an intense heated argument but i guess that didn't happen
> 
> title from canals by all time low

There’s a fine line between loving someone and being _in love _with them, and Pete is wrapping it tight around his own throat.__

__However blurred the line is, it’s enough to make Pete choke. Patrick watches the breath leave his lungs every night on stage, when the bassist leans his forehead against Patrick’s shoulder and exhales like he’s about to suffocate. Voice rough as he mutters his own words into Patrick’s skin._ _

__Patrick supposes it’s him who breathes Pete back to life. After the show they collapse together on the singer’s bunk (because it smells like him, why else) and Patrick twists his arms tight around his best friend’s body. That’s when the roles are switched and it’s Patrick’s mouth pressing gently, almost soothingly into Pete’s neck._ _

__It’s times like this that make Patrick wonder what the boundary really is, and where he and Pete stand on it. When do you cross from the safe haven of friendship into the dangerous territory of lovers?_ _

__Like, is it based on your feelings or your actions? Does it suddenly become a romantic relationship after you make out or sleep together or whatever, or when you realize that you want those things?_ _

__Every night after their shows, he lays awake listening to Pete’s shallow sleepy breaths, the gentle rocking of the bus threatening to let Patrick join him in the land of dreams. He wonders what it’s like, in Pete’s head while he sleeps. For his sake he prays it’s more pleasant than when he’s awake._ _

__Pete’s been in a pissy mood lately and Patrick’s the only one who can kind of stand to be around him when he’s like this. The singer usually has a dangerously short fuse, but when it comes to his friend he tries to be patient. Pete’s moods aren’t an uncommon occurrence, and usually Patrick just waits for the clouds to pass._ _

__Until the night he finally blows up at him._ _

__Pete is touchy. It doesn’t take a genius to notice that. He’s especially touchy with Patrick onstage, and it’s cranked up a thousand times when he’s in one of his moods._ _

__Patrick tries to be tolerant, he really does. And he can’t deny the delicious shiver that zips up his spine when Pete’s lips smash gracelessly against his neck. But it also makes his fingers fumble on the strings, and his voice catches rather embarrassingly._ _

__His face flares a ruby red, and Pete’s already gone, skipping to the other end of the stage._ _

__It didn’t bother him at first. When Patrick was a teenager, a small, suppressed part of him was more than happy to let Pete Wentz be all over him. But as the years went on and the band got bigger and bigger, so did the crowds. It’s embarrassing, to say the least. For God’s sake, no one wants their first kiss to be in front of a bunch of screaming kids._ _

__He’s done it at nearly every show they’ve played, whether it be simply leaning against his shoulder or dragging his tongue lazily over Patrick’s throat. Pete’s even clinging to him in fucking music videos._ _

__There was one instance, during a show pretty recently after From Under The Cork Tree was released. Patrick was doing terribly, to put it lightly. Afterward Pete and Joe and Andy would all assure him that he was fine, but his voice kept straining and catching and he constantly missed notes. Then Pete pressed his forehead against his temple and stayed there, breathing hard, before muttering “you’re doing great, Trick. Relax.” Something about the bassist’s breath on his neck brought him back on track._ _

__Anyone watching would guess that Pete has a massive crush on him, at the very least. Though the idea makes Patrick laugh any time it’s thrown around. On stage he might act totally into him, but Patrick knows better than to make something of it. Away from all the lights and adrenaline, Pete’s his normal tactile self, but he would never kiss Patrick. And he never has, expect for fleeting pecks on the cheek back before the band knew what they were doing._ _

__But people tend to overanalyze things and blow them out of proportion, especially with Pete Wentz. He knows what some of the fans theorize about their relationship. It shouldn’t bother him, but the thought of he and Pete being together like _that _… well, he’s not quite sure what to think.___ _

____At least the guy knows how to get a crowd going, and Patrick admires that. What he lacks in precision he makes up for with energy and passion. He flies around the stage, hopping and spinning, screams into the microphone during Saturday so intensely Patrick fears for his voice._ _ _ _

____Afterward, he looks wrecked. Pete stumbles onto the bus with his hoodie torn in a couple places, eyeliner smudged and hair disheveled like he just walked through a hurricane._ _ _ _

____Patrick ignores the prickling in his stomach at the sight of the bassist, all exhausted and totally destroyed. It’s anger, he tells himself, though the aggravation in his core might be mixed with something he doesn’t want to identify._ _ _ _

____Pete collapses on the couch next to him. He slides opens his phone, not even looking up at Patrick as he leans a shoulder against his. He swallows around the lump in his throat._ _ _ _

____Patrick pulls in a sharp breath, shifting wordlessly away from his friend. It’s an interaction that occurs between them a couple times a week, so it’s nothing unusual- Pete probably can’t sense the hostility in the action._ _ _ _

____He just carries on and Patrick steals a glance beside him, at Pete typing away on the keyboard._ _ _ _

____Patrick’s not really sure what makes him decide he’s had enough. Maybe it’s that bark of a laugh as Pete reads something apparently hilarious on his phone, or the fact that Patrick can still feel the ghost of his lips against his neck, or the memory of screwing up the lyrics in front of thousands of kids._ _ _ _

____Either way, it must be pretty bad. Because usually when Pete asks him “dude, are you okay?” Patrick would mutter a weak “fine.” But this time he stands from the couch, heat flaring through his bones all the way to the tips of his toes._ _ _ _

____“You need to stop,” he seethes._ _ _ _

____And though it sounded a lot fiercer in his head, it’s still effective enough to make Pete glance up with widened eyes. The bassist slides his phone shut and rests it on his stomach, looking more perplexed than anything. “What do you mean?”_ _ _ _

____Patrick sighs, reaching under his hat to tug a hand through his hair. “Pete, you need to stop touching me,” he blurts, before immediately regretting his choice in phrasing. “Like, on stage. It’s getting distracting, and I can’t focus.”_ _ _ _

____“You’re okay,” Pete says dismissively. “No one notices when you screw up anyways.”_ _ _ _

_____I notice, asshole _, is Patrick’s initial thought, but he doesn’t say it out loud. It’s not like Pete to brush off something that’s bothering him.__ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t care if I mess up on my singing, I suck anyways,” Patrick grumbles, knowing Pete will give him hell for that but too angry and bitter to care. “But it’s so hard to-“_ _ _ _ _ _

______His bassist rises off the couch so fast he must be seeing spots, standing to his full short-but-still-taller-than-Patrick height. “First of all, you do not suck at singing,” he says. “And second, if it makes you uncomfortable, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Patrick shifts on his feet, feeling his face heat up. “I’m not uncomfortable,” he protests, realizing how stupid it sounds soon after. He clenches his fists._ _ _ _ _ _

______Really, he’s not quite sure what his problem is. It definitely isn’t unusual for him to blow up at Pete, but there’s always a reason, and he can’t think of any besides the pressure of touring and criticism finally crawling under his skin._ _ _ _ _ _

______Or maybe Patrick’s angry at himself. Because a part of him enjoys Pete’s little touches, and it has since the very beginning. Maybe he’s angry at himself for the tiny sort of thrill that leaps in his chest every time Pete is near._ _ _ _ _ _

______This isn’t the first time he’s questioned the implications of their relationship. This isn’t the first time he’s realized that best friends don’t do this, they don’t fall asleep tangled together every night, it shouldn’t make Patrick shudder and tremble and his heart shouldn’t swell with a bittersweet, piercing feeling that can only be described as love._ _ _ _ _ _

______Realistically he should let all this go, he can tell Pete’s trying not to make a huge deal out of it, but both of them are varying degrees of pissed off and a situation like this never ends without a fight._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s unprofessional,” he croaks, because at this point he’s just fishing for an excuse to argue with him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Because arguing with Pete is better than sitting in silence with nothing but thoughts of the bassist and how hot he looks with still-dripping hair. Though an aggravated Pete is undeniably attractive._ _ _ _ _ _

______Pete rolls his eyes. Pete Wentz, the twenty-eight-year-old who wore a purple hoodie to an awards show. “No offense, but since when do we care about being professional?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Frustration courses hot through his blood and Pete’s just staring at him with those big honey-brown eyes, like he doesn’t understand why Patrick is angry but both of them know that’s not the case._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t get it,” Patrick says weakly, finally. His shoulders slump in defeat. “You’re all over me on stage, but anywhere else you act like you don’t even know me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______So there it is. The closest thing to the truth that he will ever admit._ _ _ _ _ _

______His chest clenches and everything inside him seems to still, breath and heartbeat pausing and waiting waiting waiting for a response or a sign or something._ _ _ _ _ _

______And it comes almost immediately in the form of Pete laughing. _Laughing _. A short bark of a laugh that reverberates mockingly around Patrick’s skull.___ _ _ _ _ _

________“Dude, that’s bullshit,” he blurts. Pete runs a hand through his hair and it comes away dripping. “Since when do I treat you like that? You’re my best friend, you know that.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“If you were my friend you wouldn’t like, kiss me on stage all the time,” Patrick’s voice is bordering on a yell; it’s rough and spent from the night’s show, making him sound ten times scarier. “So maybe you would, but what are we, Pete? Can’t you make up your damn mind for once?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The constant lurching and bumping of the bus never fazes Patrick too much, but the weight of the words hanging in the static air between them almost makes him nauseous. He’s afraid to watch Pete’s face but tracks his expression carefully, as it shifts from hurt to confused to something unidentifiable._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But Patrick’s not quite finished. “Like, you always hint at stuff but I figured it was just for the fans, and you haven’t really done it in a long time anyways, and it would be cool if we just acted like normal friends but you have to go and cling to me and kiss me up there and I’m confused, Pete-“_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What do you want me to do?” Pete demands, voice splintering off at the last syllable. “Am I supposed to kiss you offstage? We both know you’d punch me for that and we’d never speak to each other again.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Patrick has to admit, he does have a point. He rests a hand on the back of the couch almost to steady himself. “But you…” he suddenly sounds incredibly young and naïve and he curses himself for it. “You wouldn’t ever kiss me offstage. Not even if you could.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Pete shakes his head furiously. He takes a single step closer to Patrick, who holds his ground._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Patrick, what makes you think I wouldn’t want to kiss you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His brown eyes are twice their normal size, glinting almost innocently. Like this is all a game to him. Like it’s fun to make Patrick question things he’s believed for years, fun to watch him crumble and break apart._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________You don’t want to kiss me _, is Patrick’s immediate thought. _You don’t want to kiss me because you’ve been my best friend and my bandmate for years and we can’t throw that away, no matter how desperate we get on tour _.____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________But he says something totally different._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You could,” Patrick says, and it comes out almost like a challenge, dripping with bravado he doesn’t have._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Pete rolls his eyes at that. It’s an expected reaction, but the dismissiveness of it feels like a punch to the stomach._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Don’t you think I want to?” The bus makes a sudden sharp turn; Pete nearly loses his footing and topples over but Patrick’s still holding tight to the back of the couch. “Of course I want to, idiot, I have ever since I first heard you sing,” Pete goes on. “Maybe I know how you’d react, how it would fuck up our friendship. Maybe I know this is the closest thing I’m ever gonna get.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Patrick freezes, every jittering nerve in his body going still. Because it makes sense._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Shut up,” he practically yells; not because he doesn’t want to hear what Pete has to say, but because he doesn’t want the implications to set in. Patrick doesn’t want to think about his best friend having feelings for him, wanting things with him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Something deep inside him wants it too. And that’s the part that scares him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Pete shakes his head. Patrick watches a stray droplet of water from the shower slide lazily down the side of his neck; the bassist looks exhausted and worn-out and Patrick seriously doubts his pissy ass is doing much to help._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Look, Patrick,” says Pete slowly, carefully, as if he’s dreading his reaction. “I’ll stop if you want me to stop. I’m really sorry if it’s making you uncomfortable, but you should have told me earlier, I just want you to-“_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No, no.” Jesus Christ, how does Pete not know by now? Patrick’s definitely better at hiding his feelings, but there’s no way the bassist hasn’t picked up on something._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He takes a shaky step forward; by now most of the anger has fizzled out of his system. Now Patrick’s not totally sure what he’s feeling._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Pete is static, so still and so un-Pete that it’s unsettling. He simply watches Patrick as the singer’s shoulders lift and fall with a heavy breath._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He loves Pete, he’s loved him for years and he’s never loved anyone more. Patrick’s never thought of defining that love; it doesn’t matter but now he’s standing inches away with buzzing nerves and an aching heart and it’s the only thing on his mind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Patrick.” says Pete. The name sounds almost like a warning._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________His chest constricts and Patrick can see every greenish-gold fleck in his bassist’s brown eyes, every leftover droplet from the shower on his nose or chin or cheekbone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Listen,” Pete almost pleads, and out of his peripheral vision Patrick sees him curling his calloused fingers in and out of a fist._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Maybe,” he continues, voice surprisingly devoid of any tremor. Patrick, however, can’t keep his hands still. “Maybe this is my way of telling you I love you, that you are absolutely beautiful and fucking gorgeous, because I know you wouldn’t believe me if I just said it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Now that, he wasn’t exactly expecting. Patrick fights the urge to take a step backwards, but stays grounded even when the motions of the bus threaten to knock him over._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Shut up,” he snarls roughly. Almost a growl._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Patrick moves in even closer, and Pete instinctively retreats back- ending up pressed against the wall. With all he does on stage, Pete deserves this, he wants this. And he definitely isn’t protesting._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Shut up,” he says again. Patrick cements the command by sliding a hand over Pete’s cheek, fingers curling tight around his dark, still-damp hair. Then he pulls his best friend close and carefully draws their mouths together._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Heat flushes through every inch of his body. Holy shit, he’s trying his best to remain levelheaded, but it’s a bit difficult because _holy shit I am kissing Pete my best friend holyshit holyshit _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He’s still angry at him, at least to some extent, through the confusion and shock- and it’s evident in the way Patrick bites at his bassist’s bottom lip hard enough to peel off skin. He grips tight to his hipbones, fingertips splaying out towards his lower stomach where that dreadful tattoo sits below his shirt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He half expects Pete to pull away, to retreat to his bunk and hide and pretend like nothing ever happened. That’s what they should do. But he returns the kiss almost too eagerly, parting his lips with a soft shudder._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Patrick knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But it’s too late now, he thinks almost wickedly, like a child; he’s got the gorgeous Pete Wentz pushed up against a wall and their mouths cemented and he’s not sure if he wants to stop anytime soon._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Yet the second Pete pulls away, the singer blushes furiously and an apology is already waiting on his tongue. “Pete, holy shit, I didn’t mean, I’m so-“ he stammers, adjusting his hat. He backs up, so that Pete is still flush against the wall but there’s a good foot of space between their bodies._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Instead of snapping at him, Pete grins- it isn’t mocking, but gentle and easy and almost teasing. “I don’t understand you, Patrick Stump,” he admits. “You yell at me for touching you on stage, and then you go and do this?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“This is different, asshole.” He rolls his eyes, mainly to hide the fact that he’s seriously struggling to breathe. “You want this, Pete, I know you do, is that why you’re all over me on stage?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Patrick’s really not sure where the words are coming from, but he must have gauged Pete’s thoughts pretty accurately; the bassist pulls in a sharp little gasp, fingers gripping tight to the faded fabric of his bandmate’s shirt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________If Pete and Patrick would have ever full-on kissed on stage, everyone- including the two- would assume they were simply putting on a show. But there are no lights or screaming kids. Just a tour bus and two incredibly confused guys._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“And- this is okay, right?” Patrick asks hesitantly, just to be sure, shoulders tensing even though he can kind of tell what Pete thinks of their kiss._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________And, like expected, he nods and flashes a too-big too-eager smile. “Dude, it’s more than okay. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Calling him “dude” before making out kind of ruins the mood, but Patrick’s not about to protest. So he takes a breath and kisses him again, hand returning to Pete’s cheek while the other rests on his jutting hip._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Now that this is happening, Patrick allows himself to abandon all reservations he previously had; breaths coming hot and heavy between their mouths. His hips press neatly against the bassist’s and a muted whine slips from the older man’s throat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He tastes like the night sky, the star-speckled one racing by outside the bus window. Like galaxies and planets exploding, like when everything you want is spread in front of you but you’re so in awe you have no idea what to do with it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________It’s like all the tension between them has suddenly snapped, tension that’s been building and building practically since the day they met. Patrick knows this is the stupidest idea he’s ever had, but hell, it very well might be the best._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He gets more than a little bit caught up; how can he not, lazily kissing Pete while the bus bumps gently along the road? It’s almost intoxicating, just enough to help him forget the implications of what he’s doing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Kissing. Pete. Wentz. His bassist. His best friend._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The reality of the situation, apparently, hasn’t fully sank in to Pete’s mind yet. The bassist pulls away briefly, eyes blown huge, just to lean down and press those bright red, kiss-bitten lips to Patrick’s throat, and he-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Pete,” he says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The older man glances up, startled, like a deer caught in headlights. Like he’s snapped out of a trance. “Patrick, I,” he stammers, fiddling furiously with the hem of his shirt._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Hey.” Patrick’s heart leaps in its cage as he brushes a hasty kiss against Pete’s jaw. “Shut up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________It’s effective, surprisingly. Pete makes a point of clamping his mouth shut, then stares silent and horrified at Patrick as if to say what the fuck was that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________All of the sudden feeling exhausted, Patrick sighs and flops down on the couch beside him, slinging an arm over the side. His instinctive response is to push away all feelings or memories associated with the last five minutes or so, but he also wants to savor the feeling of Pete’s mouth on his and hold onto it for as long as possible._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Pete collapses next to him. His head is practically leaning on Patrick’s shoulder, legs almost in his lap. Once again, not unusual for them, but the knowledge of what they’d just done somehow makes it feel a thousand times more intimate._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________They should probably talk about this, but Patrick’s too tired and just wants to fucking sleep, doesn’t want to think about Pete and their sort-of argument that led to their kiss. Can’t think about the things he said, and how they were all true._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________But he does say “Love you,” or mumbles it, in a half-asleep slur, head lolling to the side and leaning against Pete’s. They do have another show tomorrow night, after all. Maybe he won’t mind Pete’s displays as much as he used to._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
